“And that I should cry, ‘It is you—it is Gilbert!’”
“What folly!”
“Take off your mask.”
“Yes, on one condition—that you will take off yours, if I ask it.”
“Agreed.” The unknown took off his immediately.
Oliva looked earnestly at him, then sighed, and said:
“Alas! no, it is not Gilbert.”
“And who am I?”
“Oh, I do not care, as you are not he.”
“And if it had been Gilbert?” said he, as he put on his mask again.